Marge and Tom Go to Kahje
by nerdymum
Summary: When Marge Bartlett decided to celebrate her retirement from teaching with a vacation she chose somewhere exotic and Kahje fit the bill. But after she and her husband meet a certain special grandson to a certain special Reaper War hero things take a turn for the exciting and dangerous!
1. Chapter 1

Marge and Tom Go to Kahje

By: Nerdymum

This story is a work of fiction. Any names or resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. The following fan-fiction has not been written or shared for any monetary profit. Mass Effect and all recognizable names, places, or races are property of Bioware.

Chapter One

Marge Bartlett had never been to Kahje. She just received her first pension check after her happily welcomed retirement from education of forty years (three months, two weeks and five days) and she intended to make the most of her free time. She was a huge fan of "Southern Seas", a program that was fairly popular among middle aged human women, and had a not-so-secret crush on the leading actor, a handsome drell by the name of Drax Elan. "Southern Seas" was based on a "forbidden romance" between a human woman named Alice who was a liason with the Alliance and her drell business partner Keityl. Oh, Keityl! What a handsome beast he was, doncha know?

She could barely stay seated as she pressed her rosy cheek against the shuttle's window to watch their decent through the thick clouds towards the capitol of the planet. From this distance it was difficult to see the tall spires of Vashta City through the shimmering bubble-like dome but she swore that she had never seen such sparkling buildings in her life. Oh, this was going to be wonderful! She giggled like a teenager as she clung to Tom's hand while Tom grinned half-heartedly.

Tom Bartlett wanted nothing more than to stay in his comfy home in his comfy chair and watch his baseball games all while drinking beer, scarfing down pieces of nut roll, and snoozing through the afternoons. He had seen pictures and scenes of Kajhe from that damn show Marge could never stop talking about, why the hell did he need to see it in person? But, he figured, Marge barely asked for anything and it was time she got rewarded for being patient with both him and with her career. So, with little grumbling (around her, that is) he watched her book the tickets for the trip to this damp, unimpressive, foggy little planet which caused her to call all gossipy friend and gloat.

The shuttle landed and after a brief message from the Galactic Explorations tour guide the fifty-some tourists stepped foot on the platform and took their first unaltered stares and gawks at Kahje. Everywhere around them was shining streets of polished metal and glass. Some places reminded Marge of the Citadel (from pictures of course because she had never been to the Citadel but that was another interesting place she wanted to travel to) but the big difference she spotted was the more artistic look the buildings and structures seemed to possess. She pulled out her holocam and started snapping pics right and left.

Tom, meanwhile, brushed his fingertips through his graying mustache in order to not grumble out loud. He glanced back at John, another fellow "unwilling" who had been forced to endure a long, uncomfortable trip to some wet ball in the galaxy, and smirked with sympathy. The two met three days ago in the bar aboard the starcruiser in order to catch the latest score on the football game. They got to talking about how their wives drug them along on this venture and quickly pointed fingers at that damn "Southern Seas" program.

"Women!" Tom growled as he shoved a handful of peanuts into his mouth. "Show them a picture of a xeno with big, googly black eyes and fish lips and they turn into big ole puddles of moosh!"

"I'll raise my glass to that," John agreed and indeed lifted his mug of frothy cold beer before taking a long pull from it.

Tom was pulled from his silent empathic bond with John by Marge's small, pudgy hand grabbing hold of his shirt and dragging him along with the rest of the group who were heading towards the city.

"Ooh, I'm just so excited!" she squealed. "I wonder how many drell we're going to meet. I heard that they were terribly polite. I do hope so, don't you, dear?" her hazel eyes sparkled merrily. The sarcasm that seemed to brim in Tom started to dissipate and he was suddenly back to being a young man in college meeting this lovely young woman for the first time after being "set up" by a friend. Marge still had a youthful spirit in her despite the crow's feet around her squinting eyes and the silver that had replaced the dirty blonde hair. She may have gained some extra pounds around her middle and wore more comfortable shoes on her feet instead of the sexy heels he remembered her sporting for date nights, but he loved her just as much as he did on their wedding day. Maybe, he thought a little more deeply, he loved her more.

He wrapped an arm around her soft, rounded shoulders and smiled beneath his bristly mustache. His response was merely a grunt but that didn't deter Marge from her exuberance. As they traipsed along the silvery streets she chattered in her high-pitched voice, accented with the Midwestern chirps of her native Minnesota folk, pointing at things she was immediately impressed by followed shortly with a click from her holocam.

The group made a few stops to some of the more interesting places which seemed to attract tourists, such as the tall sculpture of jade of Kahje's resident War Hero Thane Krios. More holos were taken along with the lilting sounds of ooh's and ahh's from the shutterbugs.

"My, my," Marge sang as her head tilted back to stare up at the proud face carved into the rock. "He sure was a handsome one. Maybe not as handsome as Drax Elan, but still, ya know, very handsome." The woman next to her agreed whole-heartedly. Drax Elan was just too cute! She loved the way he would smile that crooked grin before he kissed Emily Georgiana, you know, the actress who plays Alice.

They left the monument to Thane Krios and walked to one of the many piers that overlooked the Encompassing. Lunch was enjoyed by the group, a special meal of traditional drell cuisine consisting of delicately poached fish and a lovely sweet citrus fruit sauce over a crisp vinegary kelp salad. The wait staff, consisting mostly of drell and a couple asari, was indeed very polite and happy to assist the travelers with whatever they needed, including take pics with them.

"Why, they're all so colorful!" Marge gasped as she openly gawked at the elegant drell in their neatly pressed uniforms while they seemed to dance around the dining room with trays balanced on their fingertips. Indeed, no two drell had the same skin tone. Their waiter was a very pretty young man of cerulean blue scales and deep green marks while the next table over had a gorgeous girl of gold so bright she seemed to glow. Even though Tom didn't want to admit it, she was right. So far he hadn't seen a single unattractive drell. He grunted again as he shoved a small grape-like fruit into his mouth before washing it down with a cool, mint-like cocktail. Hell, even the food, as frou-frou as it looked, was pretty tasty.

Marge munched on her salad and stared around the room until her eyes fixated on a drell sitting alone at a nearby table and her jaw dropped as did her fork which cracked loudly on her plate. My goodness, he was a lovely thing! His skin was a spring green with black marks on his head and face. A triangular patch had been tattooed onto his proud chin, drawing attention to his full lips. He wore what she perceived to be casual apparel, a loose tunic of dark red over tight black leather pants and knee-high grey boots. He drank from a ceramic mug while reading something from his omnitool. She didn't want to admit it, but she was almost sure this handsome creature was better looking than dear Drax Elan.

Her lust changed into pity the longer she stared at him. She didn't like to see anyone alone and she began to weave stories in her mind of why this man was having his lunch by himself. She turned back to Tom and smiled widely. Tom's greyed brows lowered over his blue eyes and he knew she was going to be up to something.

"What is it, Marge?" he mumbled.

"Do you see that young man over there? All alone?"

Tom glanced over at the green drell and shrugged carelessly. God bless her, Marge was a softy, but, God bless her, she sometimes stuck her button nose where it didn't belong!

"What about 'im?"

"Well the poor dear's all alone over there with no company or anything! I just think that's sad, don't you?"

Tom sighed wearily and before he could protest he watched Marge's floral printed behind swaying away from their table towards her targeted victim. She clutched shyly and protectively to her handbag as she painted on her best smile.

"Excuse me," she spoke up after quietly clearing her voice. The drell slowly raised his head from his omnitool's read-out and allowed his attention to the round-faced intruder. Her already pink cheeks flushed a brilliant red as his deep teal eyes pierced hers, quickly flicking up and down her figure, and then returned to regarding her with curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I hope I'm not being rude, and if I am, I'm ever so sorry, but I couldn't help noticing you sitting here all by yourself with no company and, well, I don't like seeing people eating alone. My husband Tom, that's him over there, wave hi, Tom! See, Tom? Well, he and I were wondering if you would like to join us at our table. Then you wouldn't be alone."

She waited anxiously to see if the handsome drell would rebuke her offer. She also was sure the deal was broken when Tom didn't lift a single finger to wave but instead just rolled his eyes and shoved a bite of fish into his mouth. She loved Tom, she really did, but he could come across as callous and crotchety at times.

Deylos Krios was tired. It had been a long three months and he only wanted a break from the chaos that his life had to follow in order to chase his latest target. That damn Batarian criminal put up one hell of a fight but in the end it was worth it. The Quarian girl he had kidnapped was safe and back with her family on her flotilla. Deylos' reward, or penance depending on how it was looked at, were two tungsten carbide hoops pierced into his left frill. It was still tender he realized when his fingers drifted up to gingerly touch the swollen cartilage.

The first thing he did when he stepped onto Kahjean soil (or steel rather) was drag his exhausted, sorry ass to the nearest restaurant, order a decent meal that didn't require a can opener or water to reconstitute the damn shit, and a glass full of good liquor. He was particularly fond of Earthen whiskey, especially good scotch. He caught up on the local news through his omnitool links while ignoring the scores of human tourists who seemed to have invaded the place. He thought he would actually be lucky and get ignored but, as he felt the presence of one of those brightly dressed bubbly ignorant creatures invade his space he used all his willpower to push away his irritation. Poor thing, he considered as he glanced up and down her pear-shaped body, she seemed nice. Annoying but nice.

"Madam," he began to speak in his rich, graveled voice, "I thank you for the generous offer, but I don't want to interrupt your privacy." He glanced back at the human man, which he instantly pegged as her husband, and felt sorry for him.

A touch of sadness hinted in her eyes as she tried to laugh, a meaty hand swiping absently at the space of air between them.

"Oh, deary, you wouldn't be interrupting any bit of privacy. Don't be shy, join us! I've never spoken one on one to a drell before," she blushed again. Deylos cocked his head to the side as he rubbed the base of his chin against his knuckles, lips pursed in thought. On one hand he wanted nothing but to enjoy the solace of his own company, but on the other he was sure he would've been vastly entertained by the giddy round human woman. He certainly didn't want to come across as rude. He glanced at his last drink of whiskey, quickly emptied his glass, and smiled as charmingly as he could then nodded in acceptance of her offer.

"I'd be honored, Mrs.," he paused to allow her to finish. The woman seemed to glow from within and she nearly bounced up and down as she grabbed his plate and mug from the table.

"Bartlett," she chirped, "Margaret Bartlett. But, please, call me Marge. Oh, my, you're a tall one!" A gasp fell from her lips as the drell stood from his seat. Tom was about 5'7" on a good day and, with her short stature of only 5'3" she thought that was tall. This fella, well, he had to be over six feet! If she had been a much younger, thinner, unmarried, and more daring woman she would've begged him to sweep her off her feet and carry her away to some dark romantic locale.

Oh, Marge, she admonished herself. He has to be at least as old as your youngest son. And Barry's going to be thirty this year!

She placed his plate on their table and promptly grabbed a chair before he had a chance to make himself a place. Tom glanced up at the drell and offered a lukewarm grin.

"Greetings, Mr. Bartlett," the green man bowed.

"How ya doin'?" Tom returned with a curt nod.

Marge plopped back down into her seat, beaming from ear to ear with pride. She offered to pour her new guest a cup of tea while continuing to chatter mindlessly.

"You know, I just have to say, this is a beautiful city! So full of nice people and interesting architecture. Why, I haven't had this much fun on a vacation since that summer we went to Luna to watch that low gravity production of Swan Lake! Do you remember that, Tom? It really was quite a sight to see! The ballet dancers were able to leap incredibly high! But, anyway, so far I simply adore your homeland Sere, uh…" she dropped her tone and paled slightly when she realized this man was still a stranger. "Oh, dear! I forgot to ask your name! Silly me! May I ask your name?"

"Deylos Krios, Madam," he answered with another bewitching smile.

"Well, that's a nice name! And, did you say Krios? We just saw that big statue of Thane Krios a couple hours ago! Any chance you share that lineage? Or is Krios a common last name? There are lots of common names like that on Earth; like Johnson, Smith, Rodriguez."

"Marge, give 'im a chance to answer!" Tom barked and Marge meekly stood down.

Deylos was silently amused by the couple; took a quick affection to Marge and her adoring fascination with his kind. He also found himself liking the gruff husband who seemed to tolerate his gabby wife with a steely eye and a firm jaw.

"Actually, Thane is, or was rather, my grandfather," he revealed. Marge's eyes lit up again and she leaned over the table completely focused on him.

"Well!" she sighed. "Isn't that something! My first time in Kahje and I meet relative of a War Hero! I bet you have all sorts of interesting stories about him!"

"I never had the honor of meeting my grandfather. He passed many years before I was born-" Deylos never got the chance to finish his statement when the deafening sound of a flash grenade blasted through the restaurant blinding and stunning everyone inside. He quickly pulled Marge down next to him, flipping the table up as a shield, and grabbed his custom SMG from the holster at his hip. Marge cried out in surprise, curling herself as tightly as she could against him. She called for her husband but her voice was muffled by the screams and shouts of the others in the room. Smoke had filled the air adding more panic and fear to the confusion.

Deylos peeked over the table and spotted the tell-tale sign of black and orange painted armor and he knew that his previous job hadn't been completed at all. The slavers' bounty hunters had tracked him back home. He had to figure out how to keep these people out of his affair unscathed but he also had to find a way to get rid of this new problem. He glanced back down at the woman who was shaking like a leaf against him. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder before leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Stay here, I'm going to go find Tom," he said gently but firmly. Marge nodded and clutched to her handbag, watching him jump out from behind the protection of the table. Deylos kept low to the floor as he slowly took out any mercenary in the black and orange armor he could see. Along the way he ushered several of the victims towards the bar, commanding them to keep still and out of his way. Within the short span of a half hour the smoke had dissipated revealing that he had taken out three mercs. All of the human tourists seemed to be safe; well, all but one.

Tom was nowhere to be found.

He looked back at the frightened woman, her makeup running down her paled cheeks and suddenly felt a sickening weight of guilt pulling on his conscience. He knelt beside of her and gently wiped the tears from her face.

"We'll find Tom, Marge. I swear to you, we'll find Tom."


	2. Chapter 2

Marge and Tom Go to Kahje

By: Nerdymum

This story is a work of fiction. Any names or resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. The following fan-fiction has not been written or shared for any monetary profit. Mass Effect and all recognizable names, places, or races are property of BioWare.

Chapter Two

One batarian merc was still alive and that was all he needed to even get an ounce of information out of him. Amid the sobs and muffled moans of fear and confusion from the stunned tourists Deylos calmly approached the injured merc, harshly flipping him onto his back with his boot toe. He only struggled slightly when the drell placed his foot on his chest to stay him, gun barrel pointed at the direct center of his fuzzy forehead.

"The human male, where was he taken?" Deylos demanded in a cool tone. He knew the merc wasn't about to open his mouth so soon in the game but it was worth a try. The less damage he had to cause the better.

"Piss off, Krios! I'm not saying a damn word!" he croaked in pain. The gun was moved closer to his skull as the tall drell knelt down and pressed his foot harder into his aching chest.

"Oh, I beg to differ. You came after me because I killed Argesh, isn't that right?" the dark voice hissed. A guttural laugh rumbled from the batarian before he coughed and wheezed on his blood.

"You killed our leader, what did you expect, drell?! Of course, we seek revenge!"

Deylos frowned and pressed his foot deeper into the merc, eliciting a pained groan to follow.

"Listen closely," he whispered as he leaned in towards his ear. "Within the next few moments your brother-in-arms is about to die from wounds that are too deep and damaging to heal. I know you can hear me and I know you are listening in on this conversation. I have his omnitool and I am currently tracking your location. I am coming for the human male and to finish this battle once and for all. If I discover that you have harmed him your deaths will not come with mercy."

A glob of spit hit his cheek. He shifted his dark eyes to the lower two of his victim's and snarled. The batarian began to shudder and tremble as his death creeped into his body.

"Good luck, Krios!" he gurgled before passing away. Deylos sighed wearily as he closed the merc's four eyes and stood back up, shoving the omnitool link into his pocket. He needed to pay a visit to an old friend who was nearby. But first he needed to check on Marge.

She was still huddled behind the tabletop, sniffling and dabbing her eyes and nose with a delicate cotton handkerchief. Tiny pink roses had been embroidered along the scalloped edge. Once again he felt pity and guilt overtake him. She needed to be calmed and taken away from the scene, maybe given a good stiff drink.

"Are you alright, Marge?" he asked as he helped her stand to her feet. Her legs were trembling so bad he wondered if she would be able to walk out of the restaurant without help.

"Well, um, I-I'm not all too sure, to be honest," she replied in a small voice. Her mind was a confusing mass of fright, shock, and worry for Tom. Oh, poor Tom! She silently prayed that he was okay. She looked up at the green drell and took a deep breath. If they were going to find him she needed to be at her best.

"I want to help you," her thin pink lips pulled into a narrow line. "I brought Tom here and I want to help bring him back to me."

Deylos nodded and ushered her towards the exit littered with debris and dirt from the explosion. The police were just getting to the scene as they walked out. Marge watched as the agent briefly spoke to the chief, every now and then motioning towards her. After a nod from the chief, he returned to her side and helped her down the sidewalk.

"I guess that you can't do anything now, can you?" she asked lowly.

"The police agreed to assist us should we need them. I have Bounty Hunters' Rights as recognized by both the Citadel Council and the Illuminated Primacy Laws. This is still, technically, my fight, and they won't interfere with my investigation," he hailed a cab.

"But won't they need evidence or something like that?"

"If they need evidence I'm happy to supply any unaltered items they may need. The laws here are different than they are on Earth. Private investigators, information brokers, and bounty hunters are considered members of crime and law investigation, as long as they follow a certain jurisdiction code. Any who fail to abide by those standards are considered rogues and branded as criminals. It happens but not often," he explained. "Were you staying at a hotel?"

"Oh, um, yes. The Bayside Suites," she nodded and began to dig through her handbag, bypassing over handfuls of individually wrapped candies and ink pens. "So, then, you're a contractor, is that what you would be called?" She handed him the small plastic card that had all her hotel information in the microscopic processor printed into the wording. Deylos scanned over the card and immediately had her room number, credit chit number, the name of the touring company she was traveling with, and even some bits about her personal life. The woman had a spotless record.

"Contractor, private investigator, agent; I have various different titles. I have various different jobs."

Marge pouted her lips into a small "oh" and tried to sit comfortably in her seat all while watching the city flash by her eyes. Deylos remained silent as he attempted to hack into the batarian mercenary's omnitool, only to be interrupted by a light tap on his arm. He glanced up to see Marge smiling meekly, a yellow cellophane-wrapped candy in her hand.

"Butterscotch?" she offered.

"No, thank you," he smiled.

The accommodations Marge booked were decent. They weren't top-notch but they also weren't scummy. She walked around the moderately sized room and examined her surroundings with some interest. Her hands trailed over the dark wooden dresser top as she sighed.

"I can't stop worrying about Tom. Are you sure he's okay, Deylos?" her large eyes regarded him sadly. Deylos felt his heart tug for her. The bubbly, kind, somewhat nosey woman had been replaced by a scared little girl. He dropped his gaze to the omnitool link in his hands before wrapping his long, thin fingers around it. Cracking the codes around the 'tool's firewalls was the key to finding Tom.

"I'm almost certain. The Shades, that's the name of the mercenaries who took him, aren't out for him. They're using him as bait to get to me. You see, Marge, I just returned from a mission that involved the Shades' Boss, a batarian named Argesh. The Shades are a nasty group; they are slavers. They target weak individuals, kidnap them, then sell them in the black market. Those who put up a fight are usually tortured, raped, killed, or all of those things.

"I was hired to track him down and rescue a group of quarians who were taken from their flotilla. I was almost too late. When they caught wind that I was on their scent they killed all but one; a young woman. In the process of finding and rescuing her I killed Argesh during an unavoidable fight. I thought after returning her back to safety that it would all be over. I was wrong and now I have to pay for that. Unfortunately, you and your husband were caught in the cross fires of my private war with the Shades. I am sorry."

Marge sat down on the bed next to the guilt-ridden drell and placed a warm hand on his arm.

"Now, now, dearie, don't go beating yourself up over it. It wasn't your fault that it happened. Right now, let's concentrate on getting these bad guys to pay for the things they've done."

He regarded her with wonder and attempted to smile as he placed his hand over hers. It didn't seem possible that there could've been someone in the galaxy this sweet and forgiving in the middle of such a difficult time. But there she was sitting right next to him attempting to straighten the floppy straw hat atop her head.

"I agree. Let's get to work."

O . . . O . . . O

Tom's hands had fallen asleep. His wrists ached from the tight ropes binding his arms together and his lungs hurt from all the exertion. He had been forced to climb into a dark shuttle with a bunch of loudly barking batarians in black and orange armor and he had no clue why.

"If this is part of the cruise excursion I want my damn money back," he grumbled. "This wasn't in the brochure!"

"Shut up, fat human!" the leader of the smelly troop snarled in his face. Tom frowned and remained silent as his captors took him towards a darker side of town. They shoved and pushed him into a fishery warehouse where they tied him to a rickety chair.

"How do you know Krios?" the leader, a tall, somewhat fat batarian who was squeezed into his too tight armor demanded. He threw his spent cigarette on the floor, not bothering to extinguish the smoldering tip.

"I just met him! My wife invited him to our table and I talked to him for maybe a whole minute before you bunch of idiots crashed the damn restaurant. Now, can ya loosen the ropes? My hands are starting to tingle," Tom struggled slightly.

"If we discover that you are lying to us and you do, in fact, know Krios, you'll find that your hands aching are the least of your problems," a threat hissed in Tom's face. The human rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Listen closely, numbskull, I don't know Krios! My wife, whose heart is bigger than her brain, invited him to join us at our table because she thought he was lonely. I swear to God, I am telling ya the truth!"

With a harsh growl the batarian leader stepped away and began to bark orders at the other mercenaries. Tom sighed wearily and tried to wiggle his fingers awake once again. He suddenly thought of Marge and how scared she probably was. Where was she? What happened to her? Was she safe?

He began to regret allowing her to book this damn trip. He blamed himself for not saying anything. He blamed "Southern Seas" and Drax Elan for romanticizing intergalactic travel. He also blamed the Cardinals for not having a good enough season to keep him interested. He bowed his head and prayed that Marge was okay. If something had happened to her he could never live with himself in peace again.

O . . . O . . . O

"I need to make a couple of stops," Deylos started towards the door and shoved the omnitool link into his pocket. Marge rose to her feet, bubble-like chin held high and her face brave.

"Okay, then," she shoved her handbag's strap up her shoulder after grabbing a butterscotch candy and popping it into her mouth. Deylos turned to face her and smiled sadly.

"I think it's best if you stay here, Marge."

Marge frowned at him and stepped closer, her rosacea-reddened nose tilted up as she stared into his dark eyes.

"Sere Krios, now you listen here, young man. This may be some sort of mission you're still working on, but those bastards took my husband and until I see that he's okay with my own eyes I won't stay put. Do you understand?"

Deylos closed his eyes, in order to not roll them, and bit down on his lips. A long sigh rumbled from his throat and he turned on his heels, hand grabbing the door knob.

"Of course," he nodded and led her towards the elevator. His mind had already made a list of all the things he would need. He had to stop at KAT, grab his armor and a couple more weapons, then go searching for his "friend" to crack the firewall code still attached to the omnitool. Marge toddled behind him, crunching on the candy in her mouth as she tried to keep up with his long strides. She was abruptly stopped as Deylos spun around, hands grabbing hold of her shoulders with slight roughness.

"I want to make this very clear, Marge. Things could get very dangerous. This isn't something you would see on the holoscreen portrayed by a bunch of random actors. This is real. People could die or get hurt," he warned.

"I'm not an idiot, Deylos. I'm a retired teacher with a very heavy purse," she replied with a light smile. He coughed a small laugh and continued to lead her on.

His first stop was at his workplace. The seemingly unobtrusive building was actually the headquarters of the finest security agency in the galaxy at that time. Marge pulled her holocam out of her purse and proceeded to take a picture of the large bronze placard on the outside reading, in several different languages "Kahje Alert Teams". Her plans of taking more were spoiled as Deylos deftly took the small appliance from her hands.

"Until this is over, I suggest you not keep record," he said as they walked through the tall, glass doors. Marge flushed with shame and nodded in agreement. It was a very nice, if somewhat sterile-looking interior. Granite-tiled floors shined beneath her sandaled feet, reflecting her figure as well as those others who were coming and going. Deylos waved in greeting to an older woman sitting behind a tall desk before he passed the security terminal. He had to coax Marge to keep following when he noticed she was staring blankly at an elegant painting of the company's founder hanging on the wall.

"Yes, that's my father. And, no, we don't have time to meet him," he grumbled, silently wishing he didn't allow her to tag along. He could've done what he needed to much faster on his own and he wondered why he even relented to her request.

"I heard that Kolyat Krios was partially responsible for helping find a cure for Keprals Syndrome. Is that true?"

"Well, partially. Most of it was the Hanar government partnering with the Salarians and the New Council after the Wars had ended. It certainly didn't hurt that he could use Thane's story as a hero dying for the Salarian Councilor as a catalyst to get things going. Being a celebrity has its advantages." He showed her into his office, a sparsely decorated area with a plain desk, a chair that looked brand new, and an oddly placed plant that looked like it needed a few drinks of water.

"You're not here much, are you?" she asked as she inspected the fern-like foliage closer.

"Not if I can help it," he pressed a button under the desk. The wall nearest to Marge began to shift and move away to reveal an impressive array of weapons in nearly every size, shape, and caliber along with three different sets of armor. He grabbed a sniper rifle and a shotgun off the wall along with their respective thermal clips.

"Stay here," he said as he walked out the door. Marge sang a long, high pitched sigh and paced around the room in search for a cup of water. The state of that poor, neglected plant worried her.

Moments later Deylos returned dressed in neck to toe grey leather, plates of armor covering his shoulders and knees, and a matching trench coat that brushed his calves. She fumbled with the water bottle she found in the restroom and covered her hand over her quickly beating heart. If the garments were any tighter she was sure she could've seen every individual scale on his skin. The drell cocked his head in curiosity as he watched her fuss with the bottle before it fell to the floor.

"Are you alright, Marge?" he asked as he fastened a holster belt to his hips. The round woman struggled to pick the rolling bottle off the floor all while attempting to hide her very red face.

"Ooh, um, y-yes, dear," she finally grabbed hold of the offending object and promptly emptied its contents into the thirsty fern. He nodded slowly and continued to fill the holster belt with thermal clips, a small dagger, and his favored pistol. Marge watched him from the corner of her eye and readjusted her hat. The only thought on her mind, in those few seconds were not of Tom, she realized with guilt, but wondering if the young man was wearing any kind of underwear beneath all that leather. She was pretty sure it would chafe if he wasn't careful.


End file.
